A Logical Magician

16

Twenty minutes later, the gunfire ceased. Fifteen minutes after that Jack risked a look outside. The Border Redcaps remained clustered on the plaza outside, but their guns were holstered. Von Bern was gone, as were the black limousine and the Gabble Ratchets. Leaderless, the evil faeries stood in small groups, laughing and smoking cigarettes. Not one of them stirred when Jack and Simon sprinted down the main hallway to the teacher’s lounge.

“That was too easy,” said Jack, huffing and puffing as he tried to catch his breath. “Von Bern must know we weren’t killed by the gunfire. From what you told me, he didn’t strike me as the type that gave up easily.”

“I concur,” said Simon. “He probably returned to his hideaway to conduct the attack from there. No reason for him to remain close to the action. He directs the Redcaps by simple telepathic orders. They’re too dumb to understand complex commands.”

The changeling paused, the color draining from his features. His complexion turned white as chalk.

“What’s wrong?” asked Jack.

“Another possible explanation for von Bern’s departure occurs to me. The amnesia spell works on both mortal and supernatural beings. It’s impossible to summon mythical beasts from within its boundaries. The German might have left the area to call upon some grisly monster to force us out of the building. He has the reputation as a master sorcerer.”

“But if he couldn’t enter the mathematics complex,” said Jack, “how can whatever horror he summons?”

“Most legendary creatures are morally ambiguous,” replied Simon. “They act in accordance with their own nature. A few, like werewolves and ghouls, fall into the evil category. Likewise, unicorns are basically good. However, a vast majority owe loyalty to neither side. Thus, whatever geas prevents the forces of darkness from entering this place will not affect them.”

Wearily, Jack slumped into a plush chair. “Nothing we can do to stop him, right?”

“Right,” said Simon. “Fortunately, only creatures in the immediate vicinity will obey his call. Pray that nothing particularly dangerous roams the streets of Chicago tonight.”

“I’ll keep my fingers crossed,” said Jack. “Meanwhile, my body needs rest. I’m taking a nap. Wake me if anything exciting takes place.”

Less than an hour later, Jack’s eyes popped open. Simon was desperately shaking him by the shoulders. It wasn’t hard to understand why.

All around them, the lights in the lounge flickered on and off wildly. In one comer, the portable TV clicked through channel after channel, turned off then turned on again. The radio beside it blared loud then soft, spinning through a dozen stations in an instant.

Candy bars spewed like bullets out of the vending machine. A puddle of burning hot coffee soaked the carpet nearby, while the microwave sandwich maker started then stopped, started then stopped. It was as if electricity had gone mad.

“What the hell is going on?” Jack shouted.

“I’m not entirely sure,” shouted Simon, his mouth next to jack’s ear. It was the only way he could be heard over the racket. “I was half-dozing myself and not paying much attention to anything. This whole mess only started a minute or two ago. I heard a sizzling noise, and right afterward, the overhead lights started blinking.”

“It’s a massive power surge,” Jack yelled back at Simon. “An enormous jolt of electricity that’s fried all the circuits in the machinery.”

His jaw dropped in astonishment. “What the devil is that?”

A minuscule ball of white fire, less than an inch across, floated out of the candy machine’s coin return. Tiny bolts of lightning snapped and crackled across its surface. Waves of hot air rippled around the sphere as it drifted towards the soda pop dispenser. Emitting a soft, sizzling sound, the fireball disappeared into the machine. Instants later, a dozen soft drink cans exploded off their racks and into the lounge.

“It’s a will-o-the-wisp,” cried Simon, ducking beneath one of the projectiles. “Damned imp must be working for von Bern. In olden times, the little buggers were a minor nuisance leading superstitious travelers astray. Amazing how well they adapted to the modern era.”

“We can’t stay here,” said Jack, beckoning to the door. “Let’s retreat to the hall and see if it follows.”

It did. Sizzling merrily, the will-o-the-wisp attacked the corridor lights. One after another, the bulbs exploded, showering Jack and Simon with tiny shards of glass.

“Well, at least now I know the truth about those unexplained power surges the electric company never can explain,” said Jack, shaking glass fragments from his hair. The words resonated through his brain, setting bells ringing.

“Come on,” he said to Simon, pulling the changeling by an arm. “I have an idea.”

Using his master key Jack opened the door to the main computer lab. Outside, the electrical imp happily exploded the remaining fixtures.

“Don’t turn on the lights,” said Jack, moving confidently into the room. “I spent enough hours teaching here that I know my way around in the dark.”

“I don’t like this place,” said Simon nervously. “Something’s wrong here. It gives me the shakes.”

“Nonsense,” said Jack with a laugh. “You’re uncomfortable because the machines handle numbers better than you. Stay by the entrance if you prefer. We’ll know in a minute if my hunch is correct.”

Groping around on one of the desks, Jack located the necessary switch, “Here goes nothing,” he declared and pressed the button turning on the power bar for one of the computers.

Instantly, the amber glow of the monitor filled the room. Jack quickly stepped back from the machine. Impatiently, the screen prompt blinked, asking for the correct date.

Like a shark sensing blood, the will-o-the-wisp floated into the lab, the air around it crackling with energy. Straight as an arrow, it shot to the computer. At the last instant, the fireball seemed to hesitate, as if sensing something wrong. But it was too late for the imp to stop. Sizzling, it disappeared into the console.

The monitor went berserk, a hundred bizarre images flashing across the screen in a miscrosecond. Jack blinked in amazement. It was like watching a high-speed photo montage. He caught a glimpse of a thousand surprised faces—a thousand victims of the will-o-the-wisp—spread out over five centuries. Then, with a snap loud enough to be heard throughout the lab, the power bar clicked off.

“Surge suppressor,” said Jack, his eyes intent on the dead screen of the monitor. After a minute, he grinned in satisfaction.

“It’s designed to shut off whenever a major energy fluctuation threatens the system. Which, I believe, in rather general terms defines our friend the will-o-the-wisp.”

Jack tapped the metal bar fondly. “Ain’t technology wonderful? That annoying little imp is trapped in the computer, unable to power it up. Of course, his presence renders the machine inoperable, but that won’t be for long. Some bright student will realize there’s a defect in the surge suppressor and remove it. That will release the pest. By then, I strongly suspect it will be happy to escape this place.”

“Me, too,” said Simon shakily. “Let’s leave.”

They returned to the hall. Glass crunched under their shoes as they walked. “It might not be a good idea to be discovered here in the morning,” said Jack. “Explaining this mess could prove to be awfully difficult.”

“Not to mention the bullet holes in the entrance,” added Simon. The changeling looked immeasurably better since leaving the computer lab. “I’m an expert at concocting excuses, but this disaster presents a major challenge even to someone of my talents.”

“Maybe a localized…” began Jack, then stopped. “You hear something?”

“No,” said Simon. “Not a thing.”

“Funny,” Jack replied. “I swear I hear rock-and-roll music playing. The noise sounds like it’s coming from somewhere in the building. But we’re the only ones here.”

“I have spectacular hearing,” said Simon, frowning. “And I can’t hear a note.”

“That’s strange,” said Jack, stepping over to the wall. He pressed his head against the plaster. “Listen. It’s that song by Quiet Riot, the one about ‘the noise.’ Remember? They filmed the piece as a music video with the walls exploding from the sound.”

“I avoid music videos if at all possible,” said Simon. “They’re not aimed at my age group.”

“I’m surprised you don’t hear it,” said Jack. “The bass has the walls vibrating.”

“Is it getting louder?” asked Simon. The changeling bit his lower lip, his expression thoughtful. “Much louder?”

“The noise is growing,” admitted Jack. “It’s not loud enough to shake the foundation—yet.”

Jack put his hands over his ears. That helped, but not much. “What’s happening? Overwhelming sound requires amplifiers like they use at rock concerts. That’s not normally the type of equipment housed in the mathematics department.”

“I’ve got it,” said Simon, snapping his fingers. “It’s a banshee. Von Bern’s using it to force you outside.”

“A banshee?” said Jack. “I thought they were Irish spooks.”

“They migrated,” said Simon. “Not many castles left to haunt these days. Chicago’s large Irish population attracted them to the Midwest. Besides, the girls enjoy singing too much to remain in old stone towers. Now, they live in big apartment buildings, driving the tenants crazy.

“Using their powers, they create the phantom music you hear lying in bed at night. They’re the stereo playing upstairs or from the next apartment, just loud enough to keep you awake, but that’s never on when you go to complain. Plus, they’re the ones responsible for the loud, giggling noises you hear coming from the bathroom grate at three a.m.

“No question that a banshee has targeted you for its attentions. They can focus on one person if they wish. That’s why I can’t hear a thing. Usually they tire after a few hours. But, in the meantime, there’s only one sure way to stop them.”

“What’s that?” asked Jack, pressing his hands tighter. “My teeth are starting to ache.”

“The old-fashioned solution,” said Simon mournfully. “A banshee quits singing when its victim dies.”

“That’s not an answer,” declared Jack. “I am firmly against suicide. Especially my own.” He cursed. “If this was the dorms, we’d padlock the bastard responsible for the noise in his room all night and see how he enjoyed life without the convenience of a bathroom.”

“Not very pleasant, I’m sure,” said Simon. “How did you get offenders to turn off the stereo?”

“Usually, it took them a couple of hours to understand their predicament,” said Jack. “Until then, we survived by drowning it out with our own systems.”

Jack laughed wildly.

“That’s it,” he yelled and rushed for the stairs leading to the second floor. “Follow me.”

He located what he was searching for in the third office he searched. It rested on the desk of another graduate assistant. Triumphantly, Jack held his prize aloft.

“A portable CD player,” he declared. “Complete with headphones.”

Fumbling through the desk drawers, Jack pulled out a CD case. “A Question of Balance by the Moody Blues,” he said cheerfully. “One of my favorites. I especially like ‘The Minstrel’s Song.’ It should do the trick nicely.”

Jack hooked the player to his desk and fitted the receiver on his head. Grabbing several rubber bands, he snapped them over his skull, forcing the ends of the headphones tight against his ears. Grinning, he turned on the device and programmed the seventh song on continual repeat. In seconds, his face relaxed in an expression of total bliss.

“I don’t understand,” said Simon.

“Sorry,” answered Jack loudly. “I can’t hear a thing you’re saying. That’s the beauty of headphones. If the ear pads are positioned properly, the music sounds like it’s coming from inside your head. It drowns out anything. The banshee’s powerless as long as I’m using this unit. And, unlike the ghost’s thumping, I find this music very soothing.”

Yawning, he flopped onto the nearest chair. “Hopefully, the banshee is the last of von Bern’s surprises. I doubt if I can sleep wearing this thing, but at least I can rest.”

He yawned again, stretching his jaw wide open. “Damn. Being a hero is exhausting business. And so far, I haven’t done much.”

Sighing, he shook his head, thinking of Megan. “Not much at all.”